


Basorexia

by Val_Creative



Series: No Angst June/Domestic Fluff Month [10]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Introspection, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Winter runs through their blood. Ros can pretend to herself all she likes but has never forgotten where she came from.
Relationships: Ros/Sansa Stark
Series: No Angst June/Domestic Fluff Month [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769860
Comments: 17
Kudos: 24





	Basorexia

**Author's Note:**

> ngl I've been fascinated with Ros for a while and I always felt so much emotions for her especially when she spoke about being a Northerner and about Sansa so I figured,,,, why not have them talk properly to each other? Thanks for checking this out and I hope it's a good read! Any thoughts/comments would be deeply appreciated! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ 
> 
> _"Basorexia" (n): the sudden urge to kiss someone._

*

10\. Hair

Ros doesn't feel shame in being a whore.

It is what put bread in her mouth and coin in her pocket. A roof over her head. It is what gave her the opportunity to be an assistant to Lord Petyr Baelish. He's the Master of Coin. He can secure her a lavished, comfortable existence Ros desires.

She was _born_ beautiful and _learned_ over time to be clever and independent. Ros may as well use that to her advantage.

Ros enters into the keep, separating from Lord Baelish who instructs her to go to Sansa Stark. Attend to her. Gather information if she has any. Ros nods quietly. She will do it, but Ros will do this _with_ Lady Sansa's well-being in mind.

The bedchambers smell of ginger and freshly bloomed violets. Clouds of incense fan delicately around the gilded furniture.

Lady Sansa arranges herself in a chair.

"You're not my maidservant," she murmurs, frowning girlishly.

Ros smiles.

"I am not, my lady," she whispers, shutting the chamber-door behind her. "I have been ordered by Lord Baelish to see to you while he is here. I do hope I am not interrupting any prayers." Lady Sansa says nothing, looking down. "May I comb your hair?"

"If you must…"

"I insist," Ros utters, smiling coyly and reaching for a gilded brush. She stands behind her.

"You and I were both kissed by flamelight. That is rare."

Something about the phrase has Lady Sansa glancing up. Her mouth parting open.

_"You're from the North…?"_

Ros hums pleasantly, combing and running her fingers absently into Sansa's reddish hair. Soft as the finest silk brought in from Qohor. Gods help her, Ros has yet to try a woman. For all of her attraction to men, her love of women never faltered.

"I am," she admits. "I met Robb Stark a few times. He was quite handsome. A very thoughtful and intense lover. I've met the ward to the Starks. I believe you knew him as Theon Greyjoy." Ros chuckles airily. "He and I were _very much_ acquainted. And then, yes, Jon Snow. Ned Stark's bastard—he came to see me. Only _once_. I don't think he liked me very much."

"You worked at a brothel?"

"For a time. Now I own one with Lord Baelish."

Ros's fingers gently curl, petting through Lady Sansa's hair.

"Please take care," she heeds. Lady Sansa gazes around to Ros as a hand nestles to the side of her face. "You are the daughter of _winter_ , Lady Stark. Winter can thaw out and melt if the nefarious heat of King's Landing consumes it."

"You haven't," Lady Sansa murmurs bravely. "Winter lives inside you too."

Ros's heart flutters.

She pecks the corner of that lovely, girlish mouth.

"Perhaps we Northerners are more _resilient_ than we think."

*


End file.
